Conception (The Wellingtons, #4) Read online

  Fuck.

  What was that?

  “Knox, are you okay? You just got really pale.”

  I blink rapidly, my eyes trying into focus. When they do, I realize she’s crossed the room and is standing directly before me. Her hand lifts, soft fingers stroking my cheek.

  “Fine,” I croak. Then I clear my throat, hoping my voice goes back to normal. “Really, sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that I’d be stalking you. At least not in a Psycho or Friday the Thirteenth creepy kind of way.”

  Amelia holds a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Don’t you remember what Sunny told you at the beginning of the summer? I’m kind of into that.”

  I blow out a breath. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

  Her expression turns wistful. “And yet it’s gone by so quickly.”

  “I wish…”

  She lifts onto her toes and brushes her lips with mine. “I know, Knox. So do I. But we both have school to get back to. Life to get back to. Perpendicular lines, remember? It can’t be helped.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.

  “Tomorrow will be here all too soon. Let’s not think about any of that tonight. Tonight, let’s just soak in all we can. Create another lasting set of memories.” She hits me with a wink. “Or three…”

  Well, that’s that, I guess.

  “You’re the boss,” I respond.

  “First things first,” she tells me, crossing to the kitchen counter, where she’s left the Polaroid camera I got her. “Give me a smile, sugar. This is going to be all I have left of you after tomorrow.”

  Right, because that’s the one thing she could say to make me smile. Instead, I think of my hands on her tits, the sight of her underneath me, moaning as I fuck her six ways to Sunday. I don’t know what expression crosses my face, but when Amelia snaps the picture and sets the camera down, she’s grinning at me.

  “I don’t know what you were just thinking and I don’t want to know. What I can tell you is I’m sure that photo will be my first masterpiece.”

  I cross the room and scoop up the camera. “If you get an instant photo of me, it’s only fair I get the same.”

  “I can’t argue with that. A memento for you to take on the road.”

  She turns until her back’s to me, gathering her long locks in one hand and flinging me a saucy smile over her shoulder. I snap the photo, but before the picture’s finished printing, she crosses the kitchen and takes the camera from me. Her hands take hold of my T-shirt, balling into fists as she pulls me out of the kitchen and down the hall until we’re in her bedroom.

  “Come on, tiger. If this is our last night together, you better wear me out.”

  Oh, I’ll wear her out.

  After tonight, Amelia will never want another man.

  I just wonder how long it’ll take her to realize it.

  The It’s my last night.

  words come barreling at me like a freight train, so hard I bang my head on the inside of the refrigerator. The pain in my head now has nothing on the agony tearing through my heart though. I knew that this day would come, but I thought I’d have time to get used to it.

  I thought I could wean myself off Knox.

  Going cold turkey?

  It’s unfathomable.

  I’m already imagining the withdrawal symptoms, and the future appears miserable.

  I want to protest. I want to throw my arms around him and beg him to stay. But his dad’s in the hospital. As selfish as I want to be, I can’t do it. So, instead, I bury my grief and hope he can’t sense it.

  And then he drops another bomb on me.

  Wellington.

  Hell. I had no idea how much learning his last name would affect me. He’s giving us a chance. Not necessarily now, but in the future. If I choose to look him up. He’s putting the ball in my court. A ball I’ll most definitely be playing with in the near future if I get my way.

  For now? I have to let him go.

  I fight back the urge to pour my heart out. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or to me, if I spill it right before he has to leave. And if he doesn’t feel the same, I don’t want to ruin what little time we have left. Rather than going all Annette Funicello on him and declaring my undying love, I opt for getting my fill of Knox Wellington before he walks out of my life in the morning.

  Not that it’ll ever be enough.

  He closes the distance between us and swoops me up in his arms, not stopping until we’re in my bedroom. There, I slide down his chest until my toes hit the carpet, but I don’t break our connection. I relish in his closeness, knowing I have to soak up every single second of this night to add to my memory bank for the future.

  We silently undress each other, hands and fingers lingering on each other’s bodies, committing to memory what we may never have again.

  Not that I’ll ever be able to forget him.

  “Knox Wellington, what am I going to do without you?” I whisper, gazing up into dark eyes. Now that I know his name, I can’t help loving the way it rolls off my lips.

  “Probably get into trouble with Sunny since I won’t be around to keep you preoccupied. The real question is what am I going to do?”

  I swallow hard. “Hopefully not work yourself to death. But let’s not think about that tonight. How about you spend the time we have left together showing me what you’d be doing to me if you didn’t have to leave?”

  He doesn’t need any more prompting. He shuffles me backwards until I drop onto the bed. I squeal as he falls on top of me, covering my body with his.

  Words escape him.

  The time for conversation is over.

  Knox peppers kisses from my temple down to my jawline, nipping at my skin and sucking when he gets to the curve of my neck. In our summer together, he’s learned every inch of me, and knowing this is it, I want to cherish this time we have left.

  I move my hand between us, my fingers trembling as I brace his engorged flesh.

  But he has other plans.

  He brushes my hand aside and doesn’t waste another second before he guides himself into me, slowly, with measure, inch by magnificent inch until he’s filling me completely. He pauses for the briefest of moments, his eyes boring into mine.

  “What the fuck am I going to do without you?” Hot, molten eyes blaze as he undulates his hips, thrusting deep. “What the fuck am I going to do without this?”

  “Knox,” I whisper.

  It’s his undoing.

  The single syllable unleashes the fire that’s burning between us. Soft and slow and sweet lovemaking of the past melts away. It’s fierce, frenzied, frantic fucking.

  I can’t keep up.

  “Hold on, baby.”

  My insides squeeze at the endearment and I do as he asked. I bring my knees up to accommodate him, pressing the soles of my feet to the bed. Knox groans as he embeds himself impossibly deeper. My arms ascend the muscled planes of his back and hold on for dear life. There’s no matching the way he furiously pumps in and out of me, as if he’s ramming into me just how powerful he is.

  How powerful our connection is.

  It’s a welcome reminder.

  As if I need it.

  This night, this time, is different. Even though he’s here with my physically, it’s as if he’s far away. Most nights, I get his eyes on mine, our fingers intertwined, and whispered words. Tonight, Knox’s focus is on getting his fill—and giving me mine.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  He fucks me with wild abandon, crashing into me, and I arch into him, tipping my hips as he delves deeper into me with each rhythmic push.

  Knox isn’t just fucking me. He’s leaving his mark, branding me. He’s staking claim, ownership, even if only for tonight.

  “Melia,” he groans, long and low, and with one final powerful thrust, he convulses and explodes inside me, his head falling to the pillow beside me as he abandons himself to pleasure.

  His extraordinary climax triggers my own wild eruption, my brea
th coming in pants. I’m seized by a rush of sensation so intense that I dig my nails into his back as I cry his name out in satisfaction.

  At the same time, a plethora of conflicting emotions collide in my head—and my heart. Desire. Longing. Exhalation. Anguish. Sorrow. Absolutely and totally wrecked.

  The truth crashes over me along with pulsating waves of pleasure.

  I will never get enough. I may never feel this passion again. I’m not the same woman I was three months ago, and it’s all because of him.

  He’s transformed me into a wreckage no other man will be able to salvage.

  I will never be the same.

  “Jesus Christ, Melia,” he whispers.

  Those are the same words I’ve heard muttered countless times this summer. This time, though, the evident strain in his voice elicits hot tears to flood my eyes. Knowing I may never have this again is paralyzing. My heart constricts and I blink away the tears that threaten to give away my truth.

  “Usually I’m the one calling you god,” I tease, though I feel far from playful.

  He lifts, his teasing eyes and his cocky smile evident in the moonlight that streams through the window. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  As if I could.

  I want to cry when he withdraws from me. I’ve never felt so empty. So hollow. And he’s not even gone yet.

  Knox’s lips brush my forehead; then he uses his fists to push off the bed. The loss of his strength covering me sends shivers down my spine. I watch the muscles bunch in his back until he disappears into the bathroom.

  I’m a motionless mess with unexpected turmoil waging battle within me. This is it. Our final night together. I knew it was approaching, all too quickly. I just didn’t have any clue the agony I’d face knowing I may never see him again.

  Feel him again.

  I don’t want him to go. I can’t ask him to stay.

  As far as futures go, ours don’t align. He knows what he wants. It’s rooted in Tennessee.

  I’d rather go as far away as possible.

  At least, I thought I did. Until I met him. Now I’m not so sure anymore.

  Before I can dwell any further, Knox returns and cleans me up, rewarding me with another sweet kiss to my lips before heading back out of sight to presumably take care of himself. It’s all I can do not to throw my arms around him, wanting another round, another set of memories to make, to replay over and over again. But I resist and wrap myself up in the sheets, amazed at how one can feel so cold during a historic heatwave.

  I guess that’s what loss does to you.

  My mind’s running in overdrive, not wanting to think that this is our last time together. Yet how can I think of anything else? I have to get used to it. Easier said than done.

  Incandescent heat courses through me when Knox comes out of the bathroom, his nude body showcased in the moonlight. He lies down on the bed, rolls me onto my side, and draws me into his body. His arm curls around my waist, his fingers running idly over my belly. We lie in the dark silence, yet so much torment hangs in the air.

  “I didn’t know what to expect when I came to Crystal Cove this summer. The last thing I expected was you. But I’m so damn happy I found you,” he whispers before pressing a kiss behind my ear.

  Cue the shivers once again.

  My breath catches at his words. Tight knots form in the pit of my stomach. I’m unsure of how to respond. How to proceed. I want to tell him I feel the same. I want to tell him I feel so much more.

  “Knox” I breathe, but he brings a finger to my lips.

  “I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, babe.”

  His admission is a balm to my equally melting and fracturing heart. This is a first for me. I’ve never felt this way about a man. I revel in his close proximity, yet I already feel his loss. But how can you miss someone who isn’t gone yet?

  I crane my neck and look back, searching his eyes for something, anything else, but he gives me nothing. I take it as dismissal of any other possible feelings. So I bottle up my own and tuck them deep down inside me, praying fervently they won’t rise to the surface any time soon. Or at least until he’s gone.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  He offers me a gentle smile. He turns the lamp off then settles in behind me, folding me into his arms. I sink into his embrace, tucked in with the knowledge that I may never sleep in his arms again. Even though we’ve done this countless times, there’s a dark cloud hanging over us.

  Or, well, me.

  The room’s silent save for the sound of distant thunder and rain pattering against my bedroom window. I’ve been so focused on Knox that I haven’t been bothered by the storm raging outside. For the first time since my parents died, it doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing compared to the hurricane battering my heart.

  My therapist will have a field day with this one, and even though I know I shouldn’t ignore the implications, I do. I can’t examine why he makes me feels safer than I’ve felt in years. I know if I do, I won’t be able to let him go.

  And I have to. Even if it kills me.

  Knox must sense my restlessness. He coaxes me until I’m facing him. A sturdy hand palms my cheek, and I turn into it, basking in his warmth. He claims my mouth in a long, drugging kiss, his tongue seductive and searching until he finds his target. Hot moisture springs in my eyes, and as Knox starts to pull away, I push him onto his back and shimmy down the bed to take him into my mouth. The harsh rush of breath heightens my arousal. I take my time staking my own claim.

  All’s fair in love sex and war, right?

  If I’m wreckage, I want Knox in ruin before he walks away.

  For the rest of the night, we’re wrapped up in each other. Gone is the frenetic need of earlier. We’re slow and sweet. Sensual and possessive. Greedily devouring each other until we’re so far gone that I don’t know where I end and Knox begins.

  There are no words other than whispered reverence.

  There’s no room for conversation. There’s nothing left to say.

  We let our bodies do the talking.

  Unfortunately, his body language doesn’t convey what I desperately long to hear. What I’m too terrified to say myself.

  Morning comes far too quickly. If I thought I’d poured my entire soul into making love to Amelia the night before, she gets all my desperation this morning. In return, I get hers. We’re frantic, tearing at each other with intense need, knowing that this is our last time. Our last moments.

  After this, our connection’s severed and there’s no going back.

  I’m at home between her thighs. There’s unrelenting torment at the thought that I may never come here again. Experience this, her, again. Yet I can’t voice it. I don’t know how. And Amelia? She’s been silent since our bodies joined for the last time.

  We linger in bed far longer than I should. I need to get to back to Nashville. Back to reality. A reality I’m not so sure I want anymore. At least, not alone.

  Amelia’s the first to rise. The profound loss of her cuts me to the core. Acid burns low in my belly, and I struggle with what to say. I watch as she dresses in a pair of cotton shorts and a matching tank top, piling her thoroughly fucked hair up on the top of her head.

  “Gonna miss waking up to this,” I admit.

  She doesn’t look at me. Hell, her eyes roam around the room, glancing at everything except for me. She captures her lower lip, biting on it. Finally, her gaze lifts to mine and she gifts me with a smile and a wink. Seemingly unaffected.

  That cuts deeper.

  “Pretty sure you’ll forget all about me once you’re taking the reins in the boardroom,” she teases.

  I’ve spent a summer basking in Amelia’s playful taunts.

  Now, I despise it.

  “Dad may be laid up, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when he actually hands over said reins.”

  I instantly regret my words, feeling like a jackass because I still have my dad while she’s working through the trauma of losing hers.


  Amelia’s face softens. She toys with the hem of her shirt then sets a knee on the bed. “You should probably get going. They’ll be waiting for you.”

  It’s not even a cut anymore. A knife’s twisted in my gut. And my heart.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll put on some coffee for you to take on the road.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  She’s out the door without another word. I’m disappointed when she doesn’t join me in the shower. I linger, hoping she’ll get the hint, but she never comes.

  Guess she’s ready to bite the bullet and get this over with. Might as well give her what she wants.

  By the time I’m dressed and have thrown my stuff into my duffel bag, Amelia has a travel coffee mug ready for me.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “How exactly am I s’posed to get this back to you?”

  Her answering smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’ll figure it out,” she says with a wink.

  Is she really as unaffected as she seems?

  I can’t stick around to find out.

  I grab my keys off the counter and head towards the front door. She’s on my heels, and we say nothing until we’re beside my car. I set the coffee inside and turn back to her.

  Things feel awkward. Like we’re back in the beginning, unsure of what to say to each other. Fuck this.

  I open my arms, and Amelia hesitates for a moment before she rushes into them. I press my face against her hair, breathing in her scent, committing it to memory. Sunshine and peaches and vanilla. Three more things to add to the list of items that’ll forever make me think of this woman.

  She pulls away from me all too quickly, brushing the back of her hand against her cheeks. When I cup her chin and use my thumb to assist, she pushes it away, laughing it off. “I’m sorry. I’m such a sap. I don’t cry. Like, ever. I’m just being ridiculous.” She gives me a watery smile. “It’s just been one hell of a summer and I’m already mourning the sheer amount of orgasms I’m losing out on by you leaving early.”

  She’s mourning orgasms while my insides are twisting at the thought of leaving her, not knowing if I’ll ever see her again.